Consequences
by calicoskies4ever
Summary: I always wondered what would have happened if Martha hadn't interrupted Lionel beating Lex up during Transference This is about the consequences of Lex sending Lionel to prision and what Lionel does when he gets out Warning Noncon Luthorcest and violence
1. Revenge

This story takes place during _Transference, _when Lionel and Clark switched bodies. I always wondered what would have happened if Martha hadn't of come in and interrupted Lionel (in Clark's body) beating the crap out of Lex. Warning rated M for graphic violence, and non-consensual Luthorscest.

"There ain't no reason things are this way.  
Its how they always been and they intend to stay.  
I can't explain why we live this way, we do it everyday.  
Preachers on the podium speakin' of saints,  
Prophets on the sidewalk beggin' for change,  
Old ladies laughing from the fire escape, cursing my name.  
I got a basket full of lemons and they all taste the same,  
A window and a pigeon with a broken wing,  
You can spend your whole life workin' for something  
Just to have it taken away." Brett Dennen

When Clark first entered my office, I couldn't have been happier. The way our last conversation had ended, I didn't think I would ever hear from him again. I thought he hated me. Of course, as soon as I got a good look, I noticed how his clothes, his hair, even his mannerisms had changed. I knew something was wrong. The scotch should have been the final clue, but it wasn't until he asked for the fifty-seven million that I figured out exactly what was going on, and he saw it in my eyes, instantly.

"Dad," I croaked, when he grabbed me by the neck, his fingers digging into my throat. "How did you…what did you do to Clark? Pleas, I can't breath. I Cant," and then my voice gave out, and my legs turned jelly, and the darkness overtook me.

I must have been out for a long time. When I woke up I knew immediately that I was in my father's old bedroom. Silky, cream-colored curtains, red and gold carpet, and those awful, off-white sheets. The sheets alone are enough to cause multiple memories to explode in my mind, none of them good. I was naked with no memory of having taken off my clothes, or of getting upstairs, not that I was surprised.

What I noticed next, however, was more confusing than waking up in my father's bed, naked, and with a brief memory of him standing over my lip body as I lay on the floor about to pass out. I didn't know how long I had been unconscious for, or why my father hadn't taken advantage of me when I was out, and couldn't fight back. The only reason I could come up with was that he had discovered Clark's abilities, and he wanted to use them to torture me.

I was not looking forward to what I knew would happen next. I was terrified, of course, and tried my hardest not to think about it, or any of the other memories that kept forcing themselves into my mind. I heard the door squeak open, which was something I couldn't understand. We had more than enough money. Why hadn't he ever bothered to have this place fixed up?

"Oh my god, Lex?" Clark cried out, rushing to my side, touching my face, shoulders. "I am so sorry, but I didn't know what was going to happen when he touched you with that thing. I didn't wanna let him hurt you and then I got trapped in his body, and he got to hurt you even worse. What did he do to you, and why was he so mad?" I was still having difficulty breathing from the crushed windpipe, but breathing difficulty was a condition I was all too familiar with, even if it had been years. My voice was still a soft, pathetic croak, but luckily I knew Clark wouldn't have any trouble hearing me no mater how quiet my whispers might have gotten.

"My father wanted money—to get away. He tried to pretend he was you and then when I figured out he wasn't, he—I don't remember."

"Who's money, I mean, how much did he want, and why didn't you just give it to him?" Clark asked, and that was when I realized my father still inhabited his body, and that if I didn't want to let on that I knew, I was going to have to be extremely careful. I noticed that he was looking through the sheet at me, and licking his lips like a big hungry wolf. I don't know why, but I always had been his favorite chew toy, it made sense for him to come back and hurt me, especially since I couldn't tell anyone without sounding insane.

"I was scared that he was going to run off somewhere, and I'd never get to see you again, because there would be no way to…change things, an I thought that maybe if I stalled I could get him to trust me. I thought there might have been a way to fix things. How'd you do that by the way? Never mind. The important thing is that everything has gone back to normal."

"You should rest," my father told me, in a falsely kind voice, in Clark's voice. I lay down and yawned. "I think I'll join you," he suggested, slowly unbuttoning a flannel shirt, and then pulling his jeans off. He sat next to me, his hand on the soft flesh of the inside of my thigh, starting to move slowly, but roughly. "You're smart Lex, but you must have had me figured out the minute I stepped through the door the second time. So why'd you keep playing?"

"I let my hope that Clark was stronger than you get in the way of my thinking straight. I won't let it happen again. It wasn't until you started asking about the money that I knew for sure," I said, starting to stutter, as his hand slid up my thigh, wrapping around my… "Please, I can barely—I'll wire the money—a hundred million, five hundred, into an account. You can have the house, all of them. I'll live on the street, but please don't."

"Oh Lex, your problem is you need to get more fun out of life. You and I—our relationship has been difficult over the years, even strained at times, but you know that I would never hurt you—not unless I felt I absolutely needed to. Is that going to be necessary today, or can we just enjoy ourselves?"

I winced, it was quick, but my father saw it, of course, with Clark's eyes, and abilities, he couldn't miss a thing, not that he would have otherwise. The pain in my wrist was sudden and excruciating as he twisted it all the way around, in a 360 circle. I screamed, and the tears started streaming down the front of my face. I remember thinking, _Toby's gonna have one Hell of a time with that one, might have to get me a real doctor this time._ "Oh, my poor baby," he whispered, gently, as he x-rayed it. "I should at least give you something for the pain that must be causing you."

I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood, but I didn't care anymore. I told myself I wouldn't cry in front of him, and I wasn't going to break that promise. Unfortunately, he has always seemed to love to watch me cry when he was the one causing me pain. My father used Clark's fingers to pop my mouth open, and forced his tongue inside. I tried to give him what he wanted. I tried to remember the way my father liked his kisses, and waited for the darkness to take me away once again.

//XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Chapter Break XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX//

I woke up in absolute agony later, feeling as though every inch of my body was covered in bruises, blood, cum, or some combination of at least two. I had no idea how much time had passed or why I was no longer in the bedroom, and why he hadn't at least put my pants back on before dragging me back to my office, humiliation, I figured. Soon after I woke up, ten seconds, maybe thirty, I became aware of the fact that I was not alone. My body began to quiver and I pulled myself into a protective ball, or at least tried to. I didn't do a good job, what with one of my hands having been all but amputated.

"Daddy, no," where the only words I could manage to get out before I started sobbing hysterically, again. Then, from the corner of my eye I saw a flash of red hair, and a long-fingered hand reaching out to touch my face. "Mommy?" I whispered, desperate.

"Shh, it's alright Lex. I'm not going to hurt you." Martha Kent's vice was soft and kind, like her hands, touching me ever so carefully, to check for broken bones with out doing any more damage. She helped me into a shower, and then helped me get dressed, before taking me to the hospital, and staying with me the whole time.

"Everything is okay now," she promised. The doctors managed to fix my arm, somewhat, with an eleven-hour reconstructive surgery. Thankfully it was my non-dominate side, because the hand had been rendered practically unusable. They also stitched me up at the hospital, apparently my father didn't have as much control over his strengh as Clark did, but when I woke up I didn't really care about any of that. They pumped me so full of painkillers that my father could have walked through the door, butt naked, with a hard on, and I wouldn't have flinched.

I opened my eyes slowly, and saw Martha Kent seated in a chair at my bedside, although I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why she wasn't with her own family in their obvious time of need.

"How did you know to come check on me?" I whispered, looking all around me, still having difficulty breathing.

"The doctor told me that if you push that little button it will give you more pain medication," she explained, leaning over my bed, softly touching my face, wiping it with a cool cloth. "I got a call from Kansas State Penitentiary. Clark told me what happened, and I thought it was a trick at first, but he knew—when I found out the truth, I knew that he would come to you for money."

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"Clark's at home, resting. He wanted to come and see you, but I wanted to see if you were okay with that, first," she explained. "Do you need help with the pain medication?" And I decided not to bother telling her that I was more than familiar with the workings of a morphine pump. I always fought back as a kid, even though it never worked, and usually just caused him to get angry, and hurt me more.

I didn't bother to try and count the number of times Lionel had beaten me to a bloody pulp, how many broken bones I'd had, or how many times I'd needed stitches. None of that mattered anymore.

Everything was different now. The only person I had been able to trust, since my mother died, had been Clark, and my father even managed to take that away from me. I closed my eyes, trying to force my memory to change, but I couldn't get the sound of Clark's voice saying my father's words out of my ears. Then I began to cry once again, and she held me in her arms, the way my mother used to, and I let the drugs take me far, far away.


	2. Why

"I open my eyes  
I try to see but I'm blinded by the white light  
I can't remember how  
I can't remember why  
I'm lying here tonight  
And I can't stand the pain  
And I can't make it go away  
No I can't stand the pain  
How could this happen to me  
I made my mistakes  
Got no where to run  
The night goes on  
As I'm fading away  
I'm sick of this life  
I just wanna scream  
How could this happen to me," Simple Plan

I told Martha (after I woke up again) that I wanted to see Clark, but I just wasn't ready, and amazingly, she understood. She even sat with me for a while, told me everything was going to be alright, and listened as I told her about what happened. Then as she was about to leave I asked her to wait.

"Martha, I want you to talk to Clark for me, please. I think he needs to know that I don't hate him. I'm not even mad. If he hadn't done what he did, I'd most likely be dead by now, or at close to it. I—what happened to me is horrible, and I don't think our relationship will ever be the same, but," and then she inturpted me.

"Lex, I can see how difficult this is for you to talk about, but you need to tell this to Clark, face to face," she explained, and I knew Martha was right.

"Tell him—just tell Clark I still, tell him, 'thank you.'" I checked out of the hospital, after just a few days, despite my doctor's objections. After the meteor shower my health changed in more ways than just my asthma clearing up. I got stronger, and I was able to recover from getting the crap beaten out of me much faster.

Bruises faded almost overnight, the same with other wounds, even those which needed stitching up. My broken bones mended in two weeks, sometimes three, and I never one took ill, not even a case of the sniffles. So, you can understand why I try to avoid hospitals at all costs.

The first thing I did after I left the hospital was talk to Lana and Chloe. I explained what really happened, because (oddly enough) Clark didn't tell them the truth, and when they found out they both forgave him, instantly. I found myself desperately wishing I could do the same, but despite what I had told Martha, part of me did blame Clark for what had happened. Another part of me, a much bigger part, was terrified of him, in the same way I used to be terrified of my father, all through my childhood, and the rest of my life as well. And yet, I also felt like I couldn't blame Clark, hate him, or fear him if he wasn't the one who hurt me.

It might have been his hands, his mouth, his voice, even his cock, but it wasn't _him_. My father was the one behind all of it. I hate puns, especially ones involving my pain. My father had worn Clark's skin, and hair and bones, like a Halloween costume, and he used my relationship with Clark to his advantage, to hurt me in the most painful way. He knew that if he fucked me while inside of Clark's body it could make me unable to ever trust him again.

He didn't care if the change was permanent, or even if he lived or died anymore. All he wanted was to destroy me. All he ever wanted was to destroy my life. So, instead of going to see Clark, or answering his twenty-seven phone calls and the 19 messages he left me, I went back to the prison, to see my father.

"Lex, I'm so glad to see you. Something's happened to me, something wonderful. Lex, what—what did you do to your arm?" he asked, as I sat down across from him. I said nothing, simply sat and stared with as much strengh and anger as I could muster, but all of that faded away as soon as he reached out and put his hand on my cast.

"Don't touch me," I shouted, pulling away. This was enough to cause the guard to start advancing on us. "We're fine," I told the guy, who couldn't have been any older than I was. "Why don't you go stand in the corner or listen to your Ipod?" He didn't do that, but did leave us alone for the remainder of my visit.

"Lex, I know I've hurt you in the past, and I'm sorry for that. You can't imagine how much I am punishing myself for it. I should never have hurt you, assaulted you when you were just a boy. I don't know why I did that. There's no excuse for my behavior towards you when you were growing up."

"And what about last week? What excuse do you have for what you did to me then?" I couldn't stand the look on his face, it was like he had no idea what I was talking about, and the worst part was that I _knew_ the whole thing was a scam. He was trying to hurt me even more. "Lex I have no memory of those two days, none. I'm sorry."

"Cut the act Dad. You might be able to fool everyone else, but I can see right through your crap. So just tell me what—why you. Why not just pummel me until I gave you the money? Did you have to use Clark's body to—why?" I begged, tears welling up in the back of my eyes.

"That, would be exactly why I would have taken advantage of any opportunities that may have presented themselves to me during those few days, assuming of course, I had any idea what you are talking about," Dad laughed, touching my other hand, and I found myself once again unable to pull away.

"Let me go, and never call me again. Your doctor told me about your miraculous recovery, which is great news. Now you'll have even more time to spend in this Hellhole before you get to experience the real thing."

"Lex, Lex, Lex. You're still the same, weak, stupid, pathetic, little boy who used to wet the bed, _every night_. That's not still a problem, is it, Kiddo? I always thought you'd grow up strong enough to one day overcome the obstacles in your life."

"I sent you to prison, and if it wasn't for Clark, you would have stayed there, unable to ever touch me again. But you found a way around that and even managed to nearly rip my hand off in the process. I'm fine by the way. Now get your fucking hand off me," and he did. I tried to stand up and run back to my car, but even without Clark's ability he had so much power.

"You may leave now, if that is what you really want, or you can come with me to the little room they have for 'private' visits, and I can help to change your memory so that you'll no longer believe Clark Kent was responsible for what was done to you the other day," he said, grinning.

"And if I don't?"

"Well, for a start, you'll never be able to completely trust, forgive, or even love Clark again. You and Clark will try to work things out, you will, because you do love each other, but he will be able to sense what you feel, and eventually the relationship will fall apart. Lex, you two have been through a lot, don't let your pride ruin everything." He stood up and started walking towards me.

"I'm a lot stronger than you think, and I know that Clark and I can work things out on our own. I don't need your help. I'll give you fair warning on this one, but you only get to hear it once. If you **ever** come near me again, I will shoot you on the spot, got that father?"

And as I was walking out the door, I could hear him say, "That's my boy. Such a good boy. Such a good boy," to himself, happily, and I had to run to the bathroom at full speed in order to get to the toilet in time. Then I fell to the floor and the contents of my stomach emptied themselves into the bowl.

I stood up, washed my mouth out in the sink, and drove directly to the Kent farm. When I got there, Clark raced out of the house, run up, and hugged me, but he let go as soon as he saw me flinch.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he told me, standing about there feet away. Both of us were halfway up the driveway at that point. Clark stared at the ground, and I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes. "My mom told me what I did, to Chloe, to Lana, to my dad, and Jason, and…to you." He looked away again.

"That wasn't you Clark. It wasn't even your fault. My father tried to use that—tired to do it to—he tried to switch with me, and when he got into your body instead, he figured out what you're capable of and he took of the situation. That's how he described it when I talked to him today."

"You went to see your father, the man who abused you, you're whole life, before you talked to me, your boyfriend?" Clark shouted those words, but then he started to apologize again. I let him lead me into the barn, and I sat on one end of his couch with him on the other. "I'm sorry, Lex. I didn't—I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"It's fine. I just, I had to know why. I had to see him again, so that it would all make sense. To fix my memory, to make it his face, his—body. I wanted. If I have to keep looking back on the day he hurt me and I know it was my father, not you, then I might be able to make it." We talked for a while, and I even let him put his hand on mine for a minute or two, let him give me a hug as I was leaving, and then he stood up and ran to my side.

"Lex, wait, I wanna go back to the mansion with you. I can't, I just wanna be near you. I wanna hold your body in my arms, but we don't gotta, you don't hafta, I won't make you do anything. I'll just hold you, okay? I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you."

"I know that Clark, and I wanna be with you too. I'm just—okay, yeah. You're right. I think it will help to get me back to feeling comfortable—I want to feel safe when we're together. I'd love, I love you, and I wanna trust you, so that things can go back to normal." And I was really hoping things could be okay between us again, no matter how scared I was. I knew that everything would be okay if we were willing to work hard and if my father never called me again, no matter how long he lived.


	3. Return Of The Monster

AN: Spoilers for _Scare,_ and in my verse Lionel only bothers with the good guy act, for a couple of days.

"I looked around me and you where gone?  
Are you all right?  
I feel like there must be something wrong  
Are you all right?  
Cause it seems like you disappeared  
Are you all right?  
Cause I've been feeling a little scared  
Are you all right?  
Are you sleeping trough the night?  
Do you have someone to hold you tight?  
Do you have someone to hang out with?  
Do you have someone to hug & kiss you?" Lucinda Williams

It took a long time before I could even be alone in the same room as Clark without freaking out—not that I actually told him that. I tried, at first, to suck it up and act brave, but I guess Clark really can see through everything, because he knew immediately that I was very uncomfortable, and so we started off with him sitting in a chair halfway across the room, wile we talked, and then he moved closer and closer to me, until I actually felt comfortable with him holding my body in his arms.

We talked a lot during this time, about those few days, how he felt being where he had been, and how the other inmates had treated him (thinking that he was my father), how Martha had reacted when he called her, and told her the truth, what he said to convincer her of his true identity, and how she had told her Lionel was looking for me, which is how she got to the mansion and stopped my father from killing me, or doing whatever he would have done if she hadn't intervened.

And then it was my turn. I had to start with my childhood, because without that—if he had never hurt me in that way before—he would have dealt with the situation differently, I hope. By the time we got everything out in the open, it was only three weeks before Christmas—which the Kents actually invited me to—my first Christmas in years. I was almost starting to feel like a little kid again.

That was, of course, when I heard the news…my father had been released from prison. My first thought was, _how the hell could this have happened?_ My seconded was that I needed to hide and make sure he left me alone. So I holed myself up in the mansion and had my men tail him for a few days.

He seemed to be fooling everyone with his nice guy act, but I knew better. He as much told me that he was still planning to hurt me—if he ever got the chance—when I visited him in prison the last time, in-between smiles and encouraging pats on the hand.

//xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx chapter break xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx//

I was on the phone with Clark when my father marched right on into my office, just like he belonged there. I said, "I'm sorry, I have to let you go now," and hung up, praying that the look on my face didn't give me away.

"Dad, I'm surprised to see you. Shouldn't you be down at the Mission for your evening bowl of soup, or are you hear to," then I stopped, choking on my drink. It was only momentary but it was enough to keep me from finishing my sentence, and it brought a couple of tears to out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Actually, they have a surprisingly good Salisbury steak," he informed me in such a ways as to suggest that whatever he was telling me was important, as if to suggest I may need to know this sometime. "I came here as your _father_, Lex. I wanted the opportunity to apologize to my son."

"It's a little late for that. What do you really want, Dad? Me? Your company back? Revenge? To keep _testing_ me? Absolution? Because I don't think I can go through all of that again, especially if you keep beating the crap out of me whenever you—I just can't."

"Lex, I don't get some perverse pleasure from cause you pain. Every time I had to hit you, it broke my heart but you have to understand Son, you were an extremely willful child, and when you wouldn't listen to me…" I saw him clenching his teeth, sucking in air in long, deep breaths. I heard the timber of his voice go up a little, and my whole body began to shake, with fear, and I was unable to stand up and run out of the room. "And I'm sorry for that Lex, I am."

"Well I'm not going to—I can't forgive you, what you did to me. You're not even acknowledging it, and even if you were I know you aren't really sorry. I was three-years-old the first time you ever-the first time you started—hurting me. So just get out of here, okay—please?" I was begging again, but I didn't care. All I could do was sit there and hope, pray that he wouldn't touch me, or something a hell of a lot worse.

Dad walked up to my side, placing one of his hands on my desk, and the other on my hand. I started to have a panic attack right then and there. My heart was pounding, chest tightening; the room even began to spin. Then I grabbed my leg and dug my fingernails into my thigh, hard enough to refocus myself.

"Lex, you look faint. I can't in good conscious leave you here all alone. You could be ill, and even if it is only a touch of the flu, I would hate for you to be all alone in this big, old empty house," he said looking and sounding as if he meant every word of it, but I knew better. "I'm not going to do anything to you, I promise."

"Then, drive me to the Kent's house," I ordered, trying to hold on to just a tiny bit of control, and knowing he would never do what I had asked. "I've been over there a lot the last couple of months. They like me now, even Jonathan, and they said that I could go over there anytime," I told him, which was true.

However, I didn't know whether or not they would appreciate my banging on the door at midnight, even if they did like me, and even if Martha had basically taken me in as her own son. I didn't think she really cared about me, and was thinking it might all be for Clark's sake. That's how used to affection I was.

"I don't have a car," Lionel chuckling, making me hate him even more. "And even if I did, that's an awful long drive to make in the middle of the night to hand my sick son over to someone who isn't even a doctor. I want you where I can keep an eye on you for a while."

"What are you going to do to me if I stay here and allow you to 'keep an eye on me?'" I asked, feeling worse and worse by the minute. I was devastated, terrified, heartbroken, and all I wanted to do was curl up under my bed to cry and suck my thumb, the way I had done when I was a little boy.

Only, I knew I'd never fit, and over the years, I'd lost my taste for thumb sucking. My next choice would have been to have Clark hold me, and to hear Martha and Jonathan tell me I could stay there for as long as I needed.

"You are _my_ son Damnit!" he shouted, slapping my face, and then pulling me into his arms, holding me in an awkward, almost loving gesture. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and even let go when I pushed him away, whispering—he looked at me and said, "alright," and nodded towards the door as he walked out of the room.

I followed him tentatively, especially when we didn't go toward the garage, but to the bedroom area. "I'll come and see how you're feeling in the morning on my way to the office.

"What?" I shouted, stopping in front of the door to my bedroom.

"You offered to return the property you stole, and I'm taking it back. You'll be staying home for a while, or sitting in my private office, until you can earn back my trust," my father informed me, no longer giving a damn about the fake good guy act, not that anyone would have believed it anyway.

"And how exactly do you propose I do that?" I asked Dad as he started to walk down the hall towards his own room. Dad turned back, smiled at me, and winked, before opening the door and walking inside. I stood there in the hall for over an hour to horrified too move, too embarrassed to call Clark for help, and too stupid to have any other plans.

My father may have been gone but I could still feel his hand on me, and I dint know what else to do. So I locked myself in my room, and took a long scaling hot shower, staying in there, scrubbing my skin until it was red and raw, but it didn't make me feel clean, no matter how long I tried. I lay in bed steering straight up at the ceiling all night long, falling asleep from time to time, but never for more than a few minutes.

There was a knock on my door the next morning, which I refused to answer. It was followed by someone pulling on the knob. I knew better than to get out of bed, because my father would yell at me, and tell me to open the door.

Then I heard Clark Kent's voice, "Lex, I know you're in there and your dad's gone. I saw him leave. He didn't—did he hurt you?" he asked, pounding on the door. I let him in and Clark put his hand on my shoulder, and when I said it was okay, he pulled me into his arms, holding me close.

"Get me out of here, please," I whispered and the next thing I knew we wee both at the farm, and Clark was holding me as the two of us lay in bed, and I closed my eyes, finally allowing myself to fall asleep.


	4. A Home

"Here's a thought for every man  
Who tries to understand what is in his hands  
He walks along the open road of Love & Life  
surviving if he can   
Bound with all the weight of all the words he tried to say   
Chained to all the places that he never wished to say  
Bound with all the weight of all the words he tried to say  
and as faced the sun he cast no shadow  
As they took his soul they stole his pride," Oasis

Even though the Kents had told me it was more than all right with everyone, I never felt at all comfortable spending the night at their house, and so I never did. When Lionel was in prison, I didn't just have the mansion to myself, but ever one of his houses, whereas the Kent's had virtually nothing except for one tiny house, with two bedrooms.

Even when Clark brought me to the farm, the morning after my father, walked back into the mansion and…took everything back, I didn't sleep very well. That afternoon I woke up, and went downstairs with Clark, sitting at the kitchen table. Martha sat at my side, gently patting my hand.

"Lex, why don't you stay with us at least for a little while? I saw Clark when he brought you in here this morning, you looked—I just think you should be with us, so you'll feel safe." She and I didn't say a word.

I didn't want her to know I was planning on going back to the mansion in just a few hours. I knew how my father would have reacted if he came home to an empty house and what he would have done when he found me at the Kent's. How he would have…pushed—his word not mine—me and them, and I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't going to let them pay because my dad was a monster, and a tyrant.

I had to obey him. I didn't have a choice. I had to go back. I couldn't stay with the Kents. No matter how much I wanted to be part of their family, I wasn't. I was born a Luthor and, at the time, I thought I was going to die as one.

"No, thank you, I should be going soon. If I'm not there, when my dad gets home well—lets just leave it at, I should be leaving pretty soon, and even if you can—even if it were feasible for me to stay here, he would…I can't let that happen. You've been like a family to me, and it's important that he doesn't hurt any of you especially if it were my fault. I don't think I could forgive myself if that happened."

I stood up, trying to walk away, on weak legs, whispering, 'don't fall, 'don't fall,' 'don't fall,' 'don't fall,' to myself all the way to the front door. Then I felt my calves go all rubbery, and I fell, passing out for the third or fourth time in, far too short a period of time. When I woke up, I was laying on the couch with a blanket draped over me. I wasn't used to waking up fully clothed after an, 'episode,' (another one of Dad's words). My father was just like that, he didn't care what he did to me, how, where, or what condition I was in at the time. He just did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

I didn't open my eyes when I woke up, because I could hear everyone in the room talking, about me. I wanted to know who was around, and what they were saying, and how they were saying it. You can tell a lot about a person based not on what they tell you, but how they tell it to you.

"Maybe he was right. The last thing this family needs is to get back in Lionel's crosshairs," Jonathan.

"That's just great, Dad. Did you even mean it when you told Lex he was welcome to stay here, or was it just some way of being nice to me? You knew how much Lex means to me, so you figured that just as long he thinks you like him, it didn't make a difference that you didn't," Clark.

"Both of you calm down. Obviously we can't let him leave tonight. We can find a real solution later, but he's staying for now," Martha. So it was starting to sound like I had two out of three of them on my side, well looking out for me. Personally I agreed with Jonathan more than Clark, or Martha.

"Lex," Clark's voice was so soft, gentle, and quiet, that it made me feel comfortable enough to open my eyes. I looked around groggily. Clark was right in front of me. Martha was at the other end of the couch, Jonathan almost in the kitchen, standing by the doorway. Clark got down on his haunches, looking up at me. "Are you feeling any better now?"

"What time is it?" I asked, trying to sit up, but Clark put a hand on my chest, pushing me down, gently, not trying to hurt me, just making sure I didn't fall. "You could pass out again, please say down," he said sincerely, and I did what he wanted, because I knew it would please him.

"Help me sit up, please? You can sit next to me, and I'll lean against you, but I gotta start getting up, okay?" Clark nodded, begrudgingly, holding me up until he was comfortable enough to allow me to sit by myself. "Mr. Kent, you're right. I can go home a soon as I—"

"I've changed my mind on that one, Lex. You can stay here, at the very least for tonight, and we can deal with tomorrow, when we get there. We've dealt with Lionel before; we can handle doing it again. I'm sorry you heard that Lex. You are a good man. I just didn't see it until a few months ago."

"I might not have been a good person before recently, at least not one hundred percent good. I didn't blame anyone for what they think, just as long as it doesn't prevent them from treating me like a real person," I said, and then, as if on cue, there was a knock on the door and I knew, without having to think, it was Lionel.

Clark went to the door, presumably to make him go away. He was all set to beat the crap out of my dad, to get back at him for what he's done to me, so many times. He would have done what I always wanted, but never had the strengh or the guts, to do.

"Clark, don't," I moaned, standing up and staggering towards the door. Then I opened it, letting him inside. _I'm not going with you, not now, not ever, you got that 'Dad? _Is what I wanted to say, and believe me I tried, but between the look he was giving me, and the feeling of his hand on my shoulder, all that came out was, "not going with you."

"And what exactly _is_ your plan, Son? If you even have one, that is. Do you think you can stay here? Even if they wanted you, it would be impossible for you to fit in. You're different. Lex, you are a very special young man," he explained, his hand sliding down to my waist. Then Jonathan stepped passed me, pushed my father hard, causing him to stumble backwards, and land in the dirt of the walkway.

"I thought I told you last time, stay away from me and my family. Now get off of my property before I call the police," he threatened. I couldn't tell whether Jonathan meant me when he was talking about his family, but I didn't care. I would have gone back with Lionel forever at that point. Seeing Dad get knocked on his ass was about as good as I thought things would ever get.

"I'm only here to pick up a piece of my property," my father said, standing up and brushing his jacket off, calmly. "And if you don't hand that over, I'll be the one alerting the authorities."

I was terrified then, and I started shaking. Every good feeling left my body after he said that. Even though he had treated me badly my whole life, I hadn't once heard him say he owned me, which meant it was most likely a new feeling. I wanted to hide behind Clark, run away and never come back, or something else along those lines.

"Lex is a person, a human being. And an adult. He has the right to be any place he likes, just so long as he's welcome, and he is welcome here," Clark told him, coming to my rescue again. This must have been what my father was expecting, because his smile only got bigger then.

"Yes, well my Son may be welcome here, but that doesn't make him your property, but you are right. It is up to Lex where he goes from here. So, tell me, Son, what do you want? Will you be staying here, or are you coming home with me, where you belong?

Preview for Chapter Four

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I knew I could have told him I didn't want to go, that I was tired of living under his thumb, in constant pain. I knew I could have stayed with the Kents. They made it more than clear how welcome I was, and they all told me, I could stay there for the rest of my life, no matter how long that was.

I knew I had a myriad of options, everything from living with Dad for the rest of his life or mine (which ever came first) to kicking him out on his ass and take Luthorcorp back, to going to live with the Kents, to living on my own and doing whatever it took to survive.

I knew I was an adult, strong and smart, with buckets of charisma, and that I could do anything if I wanted. I knew all of these things, and more, and yet I went back to the mansion with my father all the same.


	5. Loss

AN: as I said, this is an AU fic, one in which Lex makes the right choices. Spoilers for season five _Exposed_-_Lexmas_. I've got at least two more chapters up my sleeve after this.

"Gravity is working against me  
And gravity wants to bring me down  
Oh I'll never know what makes this man  
With all the love that his heart can stand  
Dream of ways to throw it all away  
Oh Gravity is working against me  
And gravity wants to bring me down," John Mayer

I knew I could have told him I didn't want to go, that I was tired of living under his thumb, in constant pain. I knew I could have stayed with the Kents. They made it more than clear how welcome I was, and they all told me, I could stay there for the rest of my life, no matter how long that was.

I knew I had a myriad of options, everything from living with Dad for the rest of his life or mine (which ever came first) to kicking him out on his ass and take Luthorcorp back, to going to live with the Kents, to living on my own and doing whatever it took to survive.

I knew I was an adult, strong and smart, with buckets of charisma, and that I could do anything if I wanted. I knew all of these things, and more, and yet I went back to the mansion with my father all the same.

As bad as I felt having to leave the Kents, as horrible as everything seemed, as much pain, terror, and nausea I was feeling, nothing changed the way my father felt about me. I wasn't sure whether or not he even had feelings, but none of those things made any difference. Minutes after we got 'home,' as Dad insisted we both call it, he made me go upstairs with him, only this time I wasn't able to focus on the pain until I passed out, or try to disengage myself from what was happening.

My father told me that in order to be sure I wasn't planning on doing something to embarrass him, like running away again, he needed to be sure I was okay, and the best way to find how I was feeling, he said he had to talk to me. So dad decided to engage me in constant conversation, as he fucked me senseless. I tried to ignore him, at first, and then I kept my answers short and monosyllabic, but he figured me out fairly quickly, and then told me to knock it off.

He kept trying to reassure me. He kept saying things like, "you know I love you, Lex, don't you?" which was incredibly cruel. He had to know how badly I wanted to hear him say those exact words, and how damaging it was for him to tell me exactly what I wanted to hear at exactly the wrong time. He did it to hurt me; my father couldn't possible love anyone, least of all me. A man who loves his son wouldn't molest him all through the poor kid's childhood, and continue to abuse him as an adult, and that was when I got an idea.

"Why are you still doing this?" I asked, after a long period of awkward silence, broken by an occasional grunt or two. "I mean it would be one thing if it had only been when I was a kid, or a teenager, either because you liked that, or you were trying to teach me some weird fucked up sort of a lesson, but why now? I'm an adult, and you know just as well as I do, neither one of us is ever going to trust each—oomph—other. So why do you need to keep hurting me like this?"

Then my father laughed, a deep, hearty chuckle, something I hadn't heard from him in a long time, and then he said, "Lex, you are one of the most unbelievably beautiful creatures I have ever seen. You give off this _aura_ of sexuality. You're irresistible, Son, you always have been."

"So you're trying to tell me that this is my fault?" I shouted, more to cover up a scream from when he hit a sensitive spot and hurt me, than out of anger. I _was_ angry, with him for saying it, but at the same time I felt as thought he might be partially right. Only a fool could have missed the way people look at me. Everybody smiles, and since I was about fourteen-years-old I've been getting offers of money, gifts, you name it all for sleeping with them, but at the same time, the only person who had ever taken advantage of me, kept on going after I said no, was dear old Dad.

"Well I wouldn't use the word, fault, Son. No one is to blame for this. I don't understand why you refuse to try and enjoy it. This does not need to be something bad, some horrible, abusive, painful thing you feel the need to run away from. If I didn't need to work so hard to keep you from trying to fight me, I could be able to make you feel—incredible. I could be far more gentle, and I know you would enjoy it," he promised, kissing me, forcing his tongue into my mouth.

I let him do whatever he wanted, and then laid down, being completely still, waiting for my father to finish, refusing to even dignify his suggestion with a response. "You don't think I can satisfy a lover?"

"Well obviously _someone_ wanted to have sex with you at some point. Unless, you and mom forgot to tell me I had been conceived through in vitro fertilization. But I don't—I can't believe you will ever make this a good experience for me. Not after everything that's happened. I just have far too many horrible, painful memories from when I was a kid. I can barely have sex with people who _haven't_ hurt me and enjoy it. With you—it's just impossible. Do you even know what that was like for me? I was this tiny, scared, little kid and you were so big, and strong, and mean, and you always said…"

"I am sorry for that, Lex. I should have waited until you were a little older to, well it's no longer important what I did or when, or why. You need to deal with what happened to you when you were a little boy, and move on with your life." After he told that, I didn't say a word, I couldn't.

And, for the next year or so, this was my life. I lived with Lionel, constantly struggling, begging for the most basic freedoms, at work, at 'home,' and any other time. I let him do what he wanted so that he wouldn't hurt me. I was quiet, non-resistant, all but perfect. Finally, I figured out a way to get away from him.

I got involved in the state senate race, fighting to try and pull myself as far away from Dad as possible. All through the year Clark kept on coming by the mansion, both before and after I got was running against his dad, and he kept on trying to get me to go back with him. Even when he got mad at me, I could see the pain in his eyes, the wanting, and the longing. All Clark ever waned, was to rescue me and because he couldn't, he displaced his anger for my father, and tried to convince himself he hated me.

I didn't blame him though. For years I had tried to convince myself, as well as everyone else around me, I hated my dad. Unfortunately, the reality was far more difficult to deal with. I wanted him to love and treat me right so badly, that all I ever did was try to give him my love. I even tried to earn his love by letting him do whatever he wanted. I was his "good boy," for so long, it almost drove me crazy.

I knew the running for senator was going to be difficult enough, and when I found out I was up against Mr. Kent I almost gave in right there. Dad heard I was going to quit he started using it against me. He tore me down, laughed at me, called me a failure, pathetic, and a dozen other horrible things. So I stayed in, and I fought, and I fought, and I fought, and then I got shot. When I woke up from the dream, I had to lie in bed for hours, trying to figure everything out. I hadn't felt _anything_ for Lana in years, but for the past year and a half, I _had_ been hopping Clark and I could spend the rest of our lives together, get married, maybe we might adopt a child or two, or even more—if we could.

I loved Clark, and I wanted to be with him more than anything. On the very same night I was shot, brought to a hospital in Smallville, had the bullets removed, had been declared as a cripple, was transferred to the Davis Clinic, operated on again, almost died, and was shown a vision of how my life could be, I decided to drop out of the race for state senate. The next day I told my father I was leaving, and never coming back. He cut up my credit cards, emptied my bank accounts, and made me sign a few papers, officially declaring me a homeless, penniless nobody.

I took a photograph of my mother, the Napoleon watch, and a few other mementos. I went straight from the mansion to the Kent farm, knocked on the door and asked if I could stay, forever. They welcomed me with opened arms, and lots of hugs from Martha and Clark.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent—I don't know why I did the things I did, but I _am_ sorry." You deserve that seat, a lot more than I ever will." Jonathan gave me a tight hug then, and a pat on the back, the type of hug I'd seen him give Clark countless times. It was the kind of hug I'd always wanted from my own father. "Thank you," I said, with a soft sob, pressing my face into his shoulder momentarily. Then, I stood back up, straightening myself out.

"It's going to be okay, now, Lex. Everything is gonna be okay. I love you, and if you think we can, I want us to be together, and hold each other, love and take care of each other, live together. We're family now and everything is gonna be okay. I love you. I will always love you," Clark promised, holding me in his arms.

"Well I was hoping you might say something like that, Clark. In fact, I've been planning on this for a while, but it was never the right time," I told him, lowering myself to the ground, and reaching into my pocket for the ring I had bought about a year before. I got it the day before Clark discovered the room with all of my research in it, and decided he was never going to speak to me again. "Clark Kent, will you marry me?" I asked, holding the ring out for him to see. Clark looked at me, momentarily with tears in his eyes, and then he smiled.

"Of course I will, Lex," he said, enveloping me in a great big hug, as Martha and Jonathan looked on, both of them smiling at us too.

"Well, Lex, I didn't think I'd ever say this, but you've truly surprised me. When I look at you now, I can see the great man you're going to become. You are a wonderful man, and I would be proud to have you as part of my family," Jonathan Kent told me, and then the four of us spent the whole night celebrating, as a family.


	6. Family

Warning Spoilers for _Reckoning _and _Vengeance _from season five. Oh and Lex and Clark are mean to Lois but she deserves it in this chapter.

"A love so warm and beautiful  
stands when time itself is falling,  
a love so warm and beautiful  
never fades away.  
Love, faith and hope are beautiful  
when your world is touched by sadness,  
To each his own is wonderful,  
love will never die," Paul McCartney

Even though he had cut me off in every way, and taken away all that I'd had besides from a handful of things I managed to put away ahead of time, from the moment I walked through the Kent's front door, I couldn't help but be afraid that my father was going to come and drag me away one last time before locking me away in a proverbial dungeon for the rest of my life or until I became a real Luthor.

I'm not sure why these fears continued to plague me. All my life, Dad treated—and thought of—me as a miserable failure. Aside from my being 'irresistible,' he never wanted anything to do with me. I think it was even a relief for him when I left. At least then he knew he would have the opportunity to train a new heir, whether it was Lucas or someone else.

Even though I knew all of these things, and more there was still a sense of dread, as I wondered how long I would be allowed to stay in a happy family, with a father figure who loved me and a woman so remarkably similar to my own mother, she didn't even mind when I started calling her Mom, even if it did make Clark laugh hysterically. Although I had dropped out of the race, Jonathan did not officially become a senator until about two months after I moved in with them.

Throughout the whole night of his party Lois Lane followed me around the room, asking about a million questions, all with the intent to prove I had never changed and that my behavior was all an act, as I was trying—in her mind—to get the inside scoop on the Kent's so I would be able to knock Jonathan out of power. Finally, Clark found me and held out his hand to show off the engagement ring; pushing it so close he nearly hit her.

"Don't you just love it? Lex and I are getting married. _That _is why Lex moved in with us," he said so cheerfully he almost sounded like a woman. "You should have asked for help sooner. Lois is a pain but if you say exactly the right thing, she completely freaks out," Clark explained as we watched her race about the Talon trying desperately to find an available man.

"Hey, Clark, I haven't seen your Dad—I mean—I haven't seen him in about an hour. Where is he?" Clark scanned the room looking for Jonathan, twice, but with no luck. "That's sort of weird isn't it? I mean this is _his_ party shouldn't he be here?" I asked. Then Clark grabbed me and raced to the other side of the room where we found Martha/Mom.

"Mom," Clark said, looking around one last time to be sure. "Dad's not here," he whispered.

"I know; I've been trying call him on his cell for about twenty minutes but he won't pick up." Martha looked as though she were about to cry. She seemed concerned, mad, and slightly embarrassed all at the same time.

"We should go home," Clark and I both suggested almost simultaneously and that was exactly what we did. Jonathan was at home, and I don't know why he hadn't answered the phone before we left, but when we got there, we figured out why he the last three calls (made during the fifteen minute drive to farm) went straight to voicemail.

//xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx CHAPTER BREAK xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx //

I'm not sure who took Jonathan's death harder. Certainly Clark was his adopted son, but at the same time, he was the closest thing I've had to a real father and he only accepted such a role a few weeks before hand. While I disappeared into silent albeit devastated solitude, Clark ran about Metropolis beating the crap out of random thugs. There was even a point where we almost decided to push back (in other words cancel) the wedding, but Martha sat us both down for a long talk and explained that as much as it hurt, we had to keep living our lives in the best way possible.

So one day the three of us drove up to Canada for a nice, private ceremony. It's a good thing too, because just a few days later things started to change—more specifically Clark started to change. He felt nauseated almost all day, and when he wasn't, he ate nothing other than peanut butter and tuna sandwiches, and he was tired, emotional. Plus Clark suddenly had this insatiable need for affection, and I'm not talking about a quick hug. I figured it was hormones, but when I suggested the possibility things didn't go to well.

"Clark, I don't care that you're from another planet, you need to take a pregnancy test, before thins thing—we have to be sure!"

"I'll look myself, but I'm telling you, this isn't going to be a baby, I've just got the flu or something. I don't usually get sick, but I'm not—holy shit, Lex! How is that even possible?"

"We had sex. I guess that's all it takes," I told him with a laugh. It was weird, but with Clark, I didn't really care either way.

It was amazing; everyone was excited about the baby. We were having, "a little boy, with bluish-gray eyes, and red curly hair," as Clark described him to me a few days before the planned C-section Martha and I performed on him. Everything went perfectly. The baby was perfect, although a bit on the strong side. He kicked his crib one night in the middle of a temper tantrum, nearly broke the thing in half, but he was my son, my sweet, wonderful, perfect son, and I loved him with all my heart.

Even when he woke us up at 3:00, 4:00, and 5:00 every morning wanting to be fed, I loved him. Even when he broke the leg off of the kitchen table just hugging it, I loved him. Even when he turned three and tried to blow out the candles on his birthday cake and the whole thing went flying across the table, I loved him. Even when, three months later, he woke me up, by tugging on my sleeve at 2:30 am, refusing to say a word even though he already spoke with an adult vocabulary. Turns out he had Strep throat (even though he was strong like Clark, from time to time he got sick like I had as a little boy) and I to stay up for two days straight holding him in my arms, rocking him to sleep for short periods of time, and making sure he got enough fluids and took his meds, I loved him.

When things were bad, which was maybe once a year, I loved him. And when things were going well, which they almost always did, I loved him. Living on a farm, married to Clark Kent, raising our half human half Kryptonian child, staying home all day playing Mr. Mom instead of becoming a business mogul was no where near the way I had envisioned my life, and yet I couldn't help but think everything had worked out perfectly. Maybe Mom was right; maybe I can live a good, happy life after all.


End file.
